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2013.05.01 - Of All The Alleys In All The World...
It was always on the same night of the year. The most dreaded one, a miserable echo of the darkest time of his life. He is dressed immaculately, as always. Anything less would be disrespectful. Some would find it strange that the multibillionaire would stride the lonely streets of Park Row by himself at this time of night, but a chosen few, regulars in the neighborhood, know his face, and know him well enough that if he were someone else, they would greet him warmly, and by his first name. But they know why the man who has everything walks down the street, to an area tucked behind a few twists and turns from the Monarch Theatre. They know, and they leave him be. He used all of his connections to keep this place from being bulldozed by the greed of corporate interest, and the culmination of his will to use that leverage fulcrums on this single street, known as Crime Alley. A streetlight flickers overhead, casting a harsh white light on the cobblestone. THe place was all but forgotten by time itself. But not him. His stride making a distant echo off of the buildings in the distance, Bruce Wayne steps into the light, head low. The sound seems hollow. It feels right to be so. Though normally cocksure, Wayne's face is a mask right now, blue eyes shining coldly in the dark. Lost in a reverie, he kneels, and lays two roses on the street. Pay your respects. Bruce Wayne isn't alone. There are many shadows in Crime Alley, and one contains more than it's sharing. Quiet, equally immaculately dressed, because there is no disrespect intended in his action, Wayne's counterpart stands alone in the shadows. He has brought considerable computational might and cold, exacting intelligence to bring himself to this place at this time. In any other instance, this would be happening in a board room or across a dinner table. This isn't any other instance. Security was circumavigated, and something he holds as precious, perhaps even moreso, than his own life was bullied. Threatened. A message was sent, and in this, he is sending one in return. He stands with no umbrella, only an overcoat as solemn as one worn for any funeral. Tony Stark waits for the appropriate time, and when the other man rises after paying his respects, he emerges from the shadows. His breath exhaled visible in the chill rain of the night. He says a single word, "Bruce." - it is a neutral greeting. As the rain overhead settles on the ground in meandering pools, the roses begin to wilt slightly, freed from the cellophane wrapping that kept them pristine for the trip. The light drizzle wasn't enough to chill Bruce at all--he wears no overcoat, and carries no umbrella. It was the sort of thing a saner man would have declared lunacy. But some vigils weren't meant to be comfortable. Some vigils aren't meant to be warm. The memory of that night chills him more than a few raindrops ever could. Wayne shows no outward sign of surprise when it is shown that he is not alone. All of the computing power in the world, and he needs not a single byte of it. His deductive intellect knows instantly who spoke at his side, and more importantly, why. "Stark." Bruce Wayne, even now, has a way of speaking that confuses people, attracting even as it holds at distance. Though known for his easy demeanor and charm in normal situations, those a little closer to him know that there is something more to him than that. Something darker. Something a little more poisonous. That part of him spreads its wings just behind his voice. The choice of address is not as familiar as the neutral tone that Tony takes with him. Still, to say he is fully hostile is too much. The distance at which Bruce Wayne keeps people is normally arm's length. Here and now with present attendance, it may as well be a chasm. "I would have expected you to bring your suit." Tony Stark is one who can, when warranted, match himself to any situation. This one strikes closer to home than most - he, too, lost both his parents. The only difference is method. He can appreciate the tribute, everything about it. He still keeps his tone even as he speaks. To change it either way would change the climate of the visit. "I didn't come for a fight." he says, simply. "I'd start talking, then." He never admits weakness, never shows it, not even for an instant. That's why he never mentions the tribute the moment it became clear to him that Stark was here. He only seems mildly discomfited, but the gravity of his stare is on another level entirely from what he chooses to show. Meeting the heir to the Wayne fortune in any other situation would have revealed a cavalier playboy. Here, the tone is completely different. When he turns to face the engineering genius, it's with the kind of intense blue-eyed stare that leaves no room for anything else. He is not hostile, but there is a sense that he is analyzing every move Stark makes. Tony Stark doesn't blink, doesn't look away. He is a man who's been fueled by purpose, one that was ignited singularly by the man he's looking at. His tone changes slightly, "Don't be so obtuse." - there's a bit edge to his voice. "You instigated this. Right here, right now. You know when, and you know what, and you know who." then he says quietly, "I know. Not everyone is as flashy or as diversionary as me, granted. Some are barely noticeable..some are as quiet as the wings of a bat at night." That blue-eyed stare narrows to a razor's sharpness. "Me, obtuse?" He's incredulous. Wayne doesn't ask about how Stark knows. Asking is pointless, and he has more preferable methods of finding out. Instead, he focuses his words on more pressing subjects. "You know," he starts, taking the time to adjust his silver cufflinks until the hang of the tailored sleeves were just right. For a few merciful seconds, his icy glare isn't focused on Tony. "I guessed that someone like you would come for me. A classic alpha... touch something he likes, and he goes on the prowl.." He takes one step forward, as he adjusts his other sleeve. "Let me ask you. Knowing that you can come and find your way into Gotham, navigating her darkest streets... " he begins thoughtfully, though his attention seems solely focused on smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit. "What sort of message do you think you can send that way?" He finally looks up, quietly sliding his hands into his pockets. He's cloesr to Tony now, but he doesn't seem intent on a fight. Instead, that merciless stare. His expression is flat. "And sending it. Does that make you feel any safer?" Tony Stark shakes his head, "I never felt threatened." he lets that sink in. "But someone else did, you didn't touch something I liked to cause me to come on the prowl." he says and looks Bruce up and down, "You bullied and intimidated someone who had done nothing to you. She's not a criminal or a thug. She wasn't terrorizing your streets and she wasn't threatening those you protect." then he looks Wayne in the eyes again, "You want to do the brooding thing from the top of gargoyles and go after maniacs like The Joker? Fine. I'm not going to begrudge you your thing. But when /YOU/ cross the line? When you step onto other people's turf that they hold as dear as you hold Gotham, and go terrorizing and pushing around innocent people for no reason? Even the brilliant Bruce Wayne needs a message sent to /him/." Tony takes a step back, "You're lucky it was someone like me who came for you. Someone like Lex Luthor or Harry Osborne? They'd have gone looking for whatever family you have left." - a beat pause, "And knowing that I navigate this dark and deep into Gotham, and know where to go and know when to be there? The message I have to send is simple: Message recieved. But don't mistake it for weakness." he shakes his head, "Don't mistake anything I do for weakness." The only time he even blinks is when Stark points out that he intimidated Pepper. But why would he be surprised or even shaken by something small like that..? Bruce Wayne is motionless as Stark admonishes him, hands still in pockets as Tony looks his tall frame up and down. There is a reason why he chose to represent the night. It's like yelling into a void. Like Tony, there isn't a moment's hesitation from looking in the other billionaire's eyes, locking onto him sharply. If one didn't know any better, it wouldn't be hard to think that he was reading Stark's pulse from the twitches in his retina. His laser focus competes with Tony's own, and no clear victor reveals itself. If he thinks that way, then it's simple for him. "Are you through?" Bruce asks, icily. "It's funny that you think of it that way," Bruce observes, a cold rapier's point snaking behind his practiced tongue. It's a different kind of tone he takes with Stark in contrast to the Stark Industries' prodigal child; Bruce Wayne has all the practice and deadly calm of a stalking predator. "Because when you talk about Luthor and Osborne... I have to think the same thing about you." Wayne doesn't move forward once Stark moves away. "You're getting self-righteous on me, Stark. Because I'm not the one you need to be afraid of. At the end of the day, your girlfriend wasn't in any danger and you know it. It's easy to ride the bike when the training wheels are on. But what do you intend to do when someone actually does get to someone you care about for real? What are you going to do when they kill her just to prove that you're not the smartest man in the world?" Bruce Wayne seems to take perverse pleasure in the dark. "This thing that I am... it doesn't have friends. It doesn't have family. There's nothing for anyone to look for. You're different. You do." He stares. "And it's not your weakness. It's theirs." Tony Stark returns Bruce's stare with a smile. A very cocky smile. "I've already answered that question in ways you haven't antcipiated. You can hold me up to Luthor and Osborne all you want. you /know/ my track record is better. You know I've maneuvered my business to outclass theirs. They're withering on the vine because I don't trust them as far as I can throw them and I can beat them in ways that even you can't. So don't try to strike at my moral center that way." then he brings up the other fact, "I also know Pepper wasn't in any danger because it /was/ you - because I know when you're involved, no one's going to get killed. You won't let it happen, and what you need to examine at the end of the day is that difference between us. I've got enough blood on my hands already that I'm not going to let a moral hiccup keep me from pulling the trigger when it's needed. That's why I have a weaponized suit and you have batarangs." he shakes his head, "Look, Bruce, we can stand here all night doing this. You can bring up Pepper, and I can bring up Alfred. My point of being here is that for whatever reason you decided to send me a message and I got it. The reason I decided to reply to the message like this is to prove a point to you that I'm not all models and scotch and middle finger to senators. That was already in place when things happened, and it serves its purpose." Stark suggests that he hasn't anticipated something. To respond, Wayne doesn't hesitate for an instant. "I knew you'd say that," he replies. Pointedly. Of course, Wayne is silent as Tony continues, evincing all of the formidable reactions and emotional spectrum of a very emotive boulder. It's perhaps one of the greatest assets he has, being as stubborn as an old mule. But Stark lets him know that there is a very big difference between them, and for a single moment, Batman bridles at him. There is something larger there, something that riles just slightly when Stark mentions that morality won't check him from pulling the trigger, something plain to see in baleful azure stare. Mind your surroundings. In the end, Bruce is too observant not to catch Tony's drift. His insistence that he is--no matter how pointedly phrased--more than his glamour might suggest resonates something within the Wayne family scion, causing the mountain-like countenance of the man to crack. Only an instant's change, and only on the edge of perception, does he show Stark even the slightest bit of relent. He grudgingly shifts, loose energy draining from his shoulders. "Fine, Stark. If you really believe that, then maybe I'll just have to wait on it. I'm going to watch you for awhile. In the cold, dark, night, when you think no one else is there, I'll find out what kind of a man you really are.." He's still not smiling. Without further adieu, Bruce Wayne walks past Tony, coming shoulder to shoulder with him briefly. He doesn't say goodbye, doesn't look his way for another second. He's like that. When Wayne makes a decision, he tends to stick with it. Before he disappears entirely, he does pause for a minute. "Alfred can shoot the ashes off of a cigarette on a fencepost at 40 yards with a Winchester. Your girlfriend tried to beat me with an iPhone. You might want to work on that." Now he's smiling. Tony doesn't say anything, content to let Bruce have the last word, but in his mind he's thinking it: "I already have." Category:Log